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I'm just going to write some. Don't mind me. This is probably fiction.

I had this realization. Driving in my car. Where all big realizations are made, besides a walk through the park. Music from the radio stirs something somwhere and all of a sudden I'm heaving back sobs, tears, like I'm dry heaving and can't make it stop. So sorrow. It comes and goes but when it's there and you're living in the present and it's bearing down on you like a whole lot of bad news. That's when you find something to carry you through the next few months. When it gets awful bad and you're desperate for something, anything to grab onto. You grasp for whatever's close and whatever's easy. I am a weak human being. I so desperately want to call out to her. You know the feeling. When it's an ache, no, when it's a thirst. When all you want is a glass of water when you're stranded out in the desert. You feel like you're dying. Only that's just the heat distortion coming off the dunes. Or that's your skin baking, sloughing off in clumps. You can't really tell because you're going insane from the very thought of her.

But this isn't about her. The tears in the car, the car that's overheating, for which I have the heater on full, bleeding, blistering over the excess radiation from the engine block and into the interior. The plastic vents are giving off a funny odor because this isn't about her. I keep trying to get her out of my head. Only that works about as well as managing my bank account, managing my work schedule, not drinking.

So I cry. It's not even that good a song. In fact, it's probably ACDC, only I'm thinking about soft cell's tainted love or something. Not that it matters. She has such a voice. Such a personality that you could fall for some great night in her company. It makes no sense after awhile. The more I return to her, the more I have to pull myself back. Because it's broken. I broke it. Busted it simple. Pieces everywhere, painful jagged, the kind that cut and leave scars. And we both have wounds which still need time to heal. Goddamn this trite. I see a simple solution. That's to forget about every stupid last moment, every last thought of her. Because I think she's forgetting all about me. No. That's not how I work. So even if. Even if she wants nothing to do with me. Has nothing more to say to me. Wants no part of my company. Fine. I don't work that way. The painful truth is that everyone I ever come into contact with for any length of time, that imparts any emotional resonance, sticks to me forever. The only way I can cleanse myself is this. What you see here. And it only gets worse. It only gets longer and more ugly and beautiful. The devil is not yet in the details, but he will be.

So you wipe the tears away and get out of the car and sing a song because you don't know the lyrics, but the tune's stuck in your head, and you're creative, so what the fuck, make up your own lyrics. Sing along. Walking through the dark forgetting all about her until some moment in recollection. Some moment lost in the mess of all this.